


Tell me then, Prophet

by Lleu



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Beginnings, Dreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: Noah said, “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets.”Ronan dreams.





	Tell me then, Prophet

**Author's Note:**

> honestly I don’t like these books anymore but I wrote this in 2014 (!) and I stand by it still. ghost boy and gay boy deserved so much better.
> 
> I think back in the day I wanted there to be more, but there’s never going to be, so. RIP (as it were).

_As Gansey led the way out, Noah said to Ronan, “I know why you’re mad.”_

_Ronan sneered at him, but his pulse heaved. “Tell me then, Prophet.”_

_Noah said, “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets.”_

*

Later, late some night when Gansey is sleeping fitfully, Ronan slips into Noah’s room. For a moment it’s empty, then Noah’s there. “What?”

“Thank you,” Ronan says.

“You’re welcome,” Noah says, automatically. Then: “For what?”

“Keeping secrets,” Ronan says.

“I told you,” Noah says. “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets.”

They’re silent for a moment, but it’s not awkward. It’s…companionable.

“Sorry I threw you out the window,” Ronan says.

“It’s all right,” Noah says. “I wasn’t really mad.”

“I know,” Ronan says. “But I’m sorry, anyway.”

“I never thought I’d live to hear you apologize to anyone and mean it,” Noah says, smiling slightly.

“Well, technically…” Ronan says; Noah punches him lightly in the arm. It’s supremely ineffective and slightly insubstantial.

There’s silence again for a while. Noah sits down on his bed; Ronan stays standing, leaning against the wall just inside the door.

“Do you think you’ll tell them?” Noah asks eventually.

Ronan shrugs as if it doesn’t matter. It does.

“Well,” Noah says. “It’s your business, not mine.”

“How the fuck did you know anyway?” Ronan asks, suddenly curious.

“Oh, lots of little things,” Noah says vaguely. “The way you look at boys. The way you _don’t_ look at girls.”

“What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Noah says. “There’s a…way that straight boys are around girls, and you don’t have it. Even _Gansey_ has it.”

“When did you become an expert on this?” Ronan asks.

“Before,” is all Noah says. The _I died_ hangs unspoken in the air between them.

Ronan doesn’t say anything.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Noah says simply.

“I got that,” Ronan says.

“I do like girls, too, though,” Noah says after a moment.

Ronan just nods.

“I kissed Blue,” Noah says, after long pause. “Please don’t tell Gansey.”

“I would have thought it’d be Parrish I shouldn’t tell,” Ronan says with a wry smile.

“It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets,” Noah says, keeping his face blank.

“You’re pretty smug for a guy who’s been dead for seven years,” Ronan says. Noah’s face falls. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know I’m an asshole sometimes.”

“You’re not wrong,” Noah says, after a moment’s consideration. “But, apology accepted.”

“God, this conversation’s getting too weird. I’m going back to bed,” Ronan says, straightening up and turning to leave.

“Pleasant dreams,” says Noah. Ronan looks back over his shoulder, but Noah’s already gone. He shakes his head and slips out the door again.

*

That night, Ronan dreams of Noah for the first time.

He’s in a forest. Not _the_ forest — not Cabeswater. Just an ordinary forest, as far as he can tell. There are pine trees all around. He remembers visiting Massachusetts once with his father, when he was much younger. They went walking in the woods near some town that caught Niall’s fancy, and it smelled like this, like pine sap and wet earth.

The air is tense, like a storm about to break, and through the trees he can see that the sky overhead is dark with clouds. A little ways down the path in front of him is Noah.

“Hi,” Noah says, waving awkwardly.

“Hi,” Ronan says. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m not sure.” Noah looks around, considering their surroundings. “This isn’t Cabeswater.”

“No,” Ronan says, “it’s not.”

“You _are_ dreaming, though,” Noah says.

“Obviously,” Ronan says, his mouth twisting into a half-smile.

“I just wanted to make sure.”

Silence.

“It’s been a long time since I dreamed,” Noah says.

“It’s been a long time since I _didn’t_ ,” Ronan says. “And even longer since I didn’t dream of Cabeswater. Or of…”

He trails off, and Noah nods, understanding.

“Thank you for that, too,” Ronan says. “I didn’t get a chance to say it at the time.”

“We were both a little preoccupied, I think,” Noah says, then laughs at the understatement of it. Ronan finds himself smiling, too.

“Let’s walk,” Noah says. “We can explore this dream world of yours.”

They set off along the path, settling back into silence. After a few minutes of walking, Ronan asks, “Were you and the Whelk…?”

“Barrington? No,” Noah says with a laugh, shaking his head. “He was as straight as they come. We were just friends.”

Ronan stops. “How can you _say_ that? ‘Just friends.’ He _killed_ you, Noah.”

“And now I’m a ghost. What’s your point?”

“How can you just…forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Noah says after a moment’s thought. “How could I?”

“Then how can you be so…nonchalant?” Ronan asks.

Noah shrugs. “Forgiving doesn’t have to mean forgetting. I always forgave Barrington. Stealing my snacks, getting me in trouble with his crazy plans. Sleeping with my girlfriend. I’ve had seven years to learn to forgive this, too.”

“But—” Ronan starts, and Noah, uncharacteristically, cuts him off.

“The point is,” Noah says, “I’m the only one with anything to blame him for. Well, my family, too, I guess, but it’s too late for that now. And given how everything has turned out, why should I spend my time worrying about Barrington? Look at it this way: if I _weren’t_ dead, I’d probably be working some horrible 9-to-5 office job right now. Counting down the days until the weekend, complaining about my boss at the water cooler, maybe having a drink in my apartment at night. Instead I get to be here with you.” He’s blushing slightly. “Wherever 'here’ is. And I get to be in Henrietta. I have real friends, and I can be a part of something _important_. And in a way, Barrington gave me that. There are things I miss — pizza, say. Being warm — _really_ warm. And sometimes I’d give anything for a Coke. I’ll never go Canada. Hell, I’ll never go to _Delaware_. But still…this — all of this? It’s a chance to do things the _right_ way. Barrington could never have understood.”

“Oh.” Ronan tilts his head, a habit he’s picked up from Chainsaw. Noah mimics him, and after a moment of _very serious_ eye contact they both laugh again. Ronan remembers something Noah said once. _I was…more…when I was alive_. He wonders if this is what Noah meant.

“Sorry,” Ronan says once the laughter stops.

“It’s all right,” Noah says. “I don’t really expect everyone to understand. After all,” he says, flashing a grin, “I’ve had seven years to think very carefully about this. It’s not that I’m _glad_ I’m dead, but since I _am_ and there’s nothing I can do to change that, I don’t like to think too hard about it.”

They start walking again. The clouds swirl overhead. Lightning flashes, and Ronan wakes up.

It’s still dark. Maybe 4am. He rolls over in his bed and closes his eyes again. Eventually, he slips into dreams again. This time he dreams of Cabeswater, of trees whispering to him in a long-dead language.

_Te absolvimus._


End file.
